Monday, February 16, 2009
Remembering
As a child, I was not blanketed with the comfort of the simplest socializing illusion, a belief in some God replete with existential purpose and explanation. When I closed my eyes at night, my conversations were with myself. I weighed my thoughts in human court. And on the night when I uncovered, or was capable of confronting, the question of mortality, and asked what my conscious being would become, my subconscious revealed the the punchline blank.
2/14/09
A. George Bush was a much-needed leader for the future history book of our world (which you should not read). He understood the importance of listening to his gut (more human people would call this a heart) and the universe deemed him the instrument of necessarily egregious and retarded antagonism. His gratuitous, unabashed, flagrance served to pick fields of seeds of anarchy from neon slumber. Even in his wake, the vicious chain of consequence to his conservative cowardice cures the narcoleptic changers of a new generation. Do not turn around.
a) Obama is smiling frightening. gimme Kucinich.
B. I want to tour with the Jonas brothers; the more eyes, the better. I didn’t start a band to be in a basement making recordings to blow my head off to. Fuck that miserable, pitiful bullshit. We need piles of money to afford ourselves the surrealist joke of a life that every good boy and girl deserves. That’s my American dream; to buy my parents taxidermied polar bears for Christmas.
C. If we vibrate the strings of connectivity and push consciousness, and our capacity for confronting the most psychically painful and frightening constructs of our personal realities, we will feel alive again. We must exorcise our fear, exorcise our shame, exorcise the voices that stifle the trumpets of our own glory and folly; harness the seesaw of confident uncertainty. We must grant ourselves the freedom to embrace the levity of a smiling surrender to the propulsive whims of our own sincere humanity.
D. All particles exist eternally. Nothing is our own. Every thing and un thing is forever a beginning and ending. Ourosboros. The end of the journey brings the beginning back. Questions propel the universe.
E. The laboratory of modern invention reels with the looming beauty of desperation and imminent chaos. Go to midtown, feel the buildings getting smaller and grant yourself the thought that if you really tried, you could lift and topple one with your bare hands.
F. Art lives in the vindication of pain. And all elitists, revivalists, hobnobbing culture snobs, misguided tools of industry, and Alasholes are being mouth-raped by the Spectacle’s slimy cock. Wear your loneliness on your skin and see it tan. Feel warm.
G. _ _ _ _ _ _ ____ ____ - - _ _ _ _ _
H. we all wanna fuck anna karina
I. Remember the week they cured AIDS? Oh yeah! That was this week.
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/11/14/health/14hiv.html
a) Obama is smiling frightening. gimme Kucinich.
B. I want to tour with the Jonas brothers; the more eyes, the better. I didn’t start a band to be in a basement making recordings to blow my head off to. Fuck that miserable, pitiful bullshit. We need piles of money to afford ourselves the surrealist joke of a life that every good boy and girl deserves. That’s my American dream; to buy my parents taxidermied polar bears for Christmas.
C. If we vibrate the strings of connectivity and push consciousness, and our capacity for confronting the most psychically painful and frightening constructs of our personal realities, we will feel alive again. We must exorcise our fear, exorcise our shame, exorcise the voices that stifle the trumpets of our own glory and folly; harness the seesaw of confident uncertainty. We must grant ourselves the freedom to embrace the levity of a smiling surrender to the propulsive whims of our own sincere humanity.
D. All particles exist eternally. Nothing is our own. Every thing and un thing is forever a beginning and ending. Ourosboros. The end of the journey brings the beginning back. Questions propel the universe.
E. The laboratory of modern invention reels with the looming beauty of desperation and imminent chaos. Go to midtown, feel the buildings getting smaller and grant yourself the thought that if you really tried, you could lift and topple one with your bare hands.
F. Art lives in the vindication of pain. And all elitists, revivalists, hobnobbing culture snobs, misguided tools of industry, and Alasholes are being mouth-raped by the Spectacle’s slimy cock. Wear your loneliness on your skin and see it tan. Feel warm.
G. _ _ _ _ _ _ ____ ____ - - _ _ _ _ _
H. we all wanna fuck anna karina
I. Remember the week they cured AIDS? Oh yeah! That was this week.
http://www.nytimes.com/200
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